


Here Comes the Moon

by LaLainaJ



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mates, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:58:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4325817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the movie Ginger Snaps.</p>
<p>Klaus broke his curse in the 15th century. He thought the ritual was all he needed, but he was wrong. For 500 years he's been waiting, for the right girl, to be in the right place, at the right time. And then it happens, she's bitten, and he's so close to getting everything he's ever wanted. He only needs to find her, but that might just be the easy part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Could Be A Lot Of Things

**Author's Note:**

> I've been a little burned out on fluff lately and this is an idea that's been percolating for a while. Fun fact about me: I LOVE werewolves. And that's because of a little movie called Ginger Snaps, that I saw when I was about 12. This fic attempts to blend the wolf mythology of that movie with that of the TVD verse. I am taking all sorts of liberties with canon, though. 
> 
> Story title from "Wolf Like Me" by TV on the Radio. Chapter title from An American Werewolf In London.

**Chapter One – Could Be A Lot Of Things**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia - February 19 (12:23 AM)**

In most of the ways that counted Mystic Falls, Virginia kind of sucked. There was nowhere to shop and only one decent restraunt. No Starbucks and a tiny movie theater with one screen. Worst of all? Everyone knew your business. When Mrs. Phillips, from down the street, clucked her tongue and said, "Don't you think that skirt's a bit short, dear? You'll give the boys the wrong idea," Caroline had to grit her teeth and smile, because Mrs. Phillips had brought over a casserole and blueberry muffins the day her parents had brought her home from the hospital. Why that was supposed to earn her a pass, Caroline did not know.

But she thought Mrs. Phillips was clearly too senile to remember being eighteen, because giving boys the wrong idea was all sorts of fun.

One of the only perks of living in such a tiny, nothing town was the fact that nothing bad ever happened. A blonde in a short dress and high heels could stroll through the forest late at night and not worry about axe murderers. It was totally safe to walk home alone (because your two best friends and your boyfriend all had to leave the dance early. Not that she was bitter about that, or anything).

At least that was what Caroline kept telling herself every time something rustled in the trees. The safe part. Not the bitter part. Nothing bad ever happened in Mystic Falls had become her mantra.

Doesn't stop her kind of regretting not accepting that ride home from Mr. Wagner. But Mr. Wagner was like ninety-seven, and should probably have retired to Florida ages ago. According to her mom, he'd been ancient when  _she'd_  gone to high school, so Caroline was pretty sure he shouldn't be operating a vehicle after dark. She wasn't willing to die in a car crash before senior prom.

And since one of the only other perks of Mystic Fall's podunkness was that she could comfortably walk across its entire area, four times, in an hour, she'd waved to Mr. Wagner as his Buick exited the high school's parking lot, and set off in the opposite direction towards home.

Cutting through the woods had seemed like a good idea. It cut her trip down considerably, and the well-worn path was packed solidly, so Caroline wasn't worried about tripping in her sparkly silver heels. She'd assumed that the most dangerous thing out and about would be horny couples. Some of her peers weren't lucky enough to have Caroline's complete lack of parental supervision and could have gone outdoors, looking to end the Valentine's Day dance with a literal bang.

Caroline couldn't blame them. The dance had been awesome, if she did say so herself. She was barely even irked that it had to be scheduled four whole days after Valentine's Day, all because the stupid basketball team had playoffs (which they'd lost!) out of town.

She  _was_  pissed that most of her committee had high tailed it out of the building, leaving her to do the final rounds, before the final song had played. If they were no shows for clean up tomorrow there would be hell to pay.

But even though Caroline understood the need for privacy, there were some things she didn't want to see. The awkward attempts at forest sex some of her classmates might be tempted to engage in? Ranked pretty high on that list.

She'd braced herself at every bend in the path, but thankfully, her eyes had yet to be abused. Either people had gone deeper into the trees to screw around or they'd decided it was too cold.

Or maybe she wasn't the only one replaying horror movies in her mind due to the full moon and eerie silence that surrounded her.

There was a crack in the distance, loud like a gunshot in the stillness. Caroline paused, squinted into the darkness. And then she picked up her pace.

"It's nothing, Caroline. You're just being dumb," she muttered to herself. But the noises didn't seem scattered anymore. And they seemed to be getting closer to the path. Caroline had that weird feeling, that one that made your skin prickle with awareness. The one that made you twitchy. The one where you were sure that you weren't alone.

God, if some asshole was lurking out there, waiting to jump out and say boo, she was going to murder them with her bare hands and a very pointy heel. Were they in fourth grade? Was a little maturity too much to ask for?

With that in mind Caroline halted, pulled her cell phone out, and flicked on the flashlight. She shone it into the forest, planted her free hand on her hip and called out, "Hey! If you're trying to be funny, stop. Seriously. Because I'm tired and I have to be up early in the morning. Come out now and I'll be nice, and consider  _not_  making your life a living hell for the rest of the school year."

Caroline waited, expecting some drunken jock to come stumbling out. Laughing because he thought he was oh so hilarious. He wouldn't be laughing when she kneed him in the balls and left him curled in the fetal position on the ground.

But no one answered her.

No one human, anyway.

A deep growl sounded, from no more than ten feet to her right, just as the light caught on a pair of yellow eyes.

"Oh shit," Caroline breathed, and started backing away. Because those eyes were too high up to belong to a raccoon or a bunny or anything else that was cute and fluffy and harmless. And deer didn't growl. She fumbled for her purse, before remembering that the bear spray her mom bought her every year as a stocking stuffer hadn't fit in it and was sitting uselessly on her desk at home.

The light shook as she held it up. She could make out dark fur, and whatever that thing was it was freaking huge. Had to be a dog. She'd know if there were wolves in Mystic Falls, wouldn't she? Seems like something someone would have mentioned. It must just be a lost dog, and it was wandering around in the forest and it was probably more scared of her than she was of it, right?

It wasn't slowly prowling forward as she moved back because it wanted to eat her or anything. Because that sort of thing only happened in terrible movies.

"Nice doggie," Caroline whispered, "good doggie. I'm just gonna continue on my way, okay? I'll come back tomorrow with a steak and help you find your family, how about that?" It was total nonsense, but weren't you supposed to talk to animals? Let them know you were human, or something?

It let out another noise. Deeper, more feral. A snarl this time, which bared its teeth. It's very sharp teeth. Caroline was so focused on them, on the danger they presented, that she almost missed its lunge for her.

With a yelp, she stumbled to the side. She teetered for a moment before falling hard on her knees. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she hissed, groping blindly in front of her, grasping a rock in her hand. Caroline turned, just as it leaped towards her, throwing her onto her back. She flung an arm in front of her, screamed as those teeth sank through her coat and into her skin, those yellow eyes not a foot from her face, her arm the only thing that had protected her throat.

Caroline brought her knee up, shoved as hard as she could, made a fist around the rock in her hand and smashed it into the animal's head. The first hit loosened its jaws, the second drew blood, spraying it across her face, and the third mercifully knocked the animal to the side. Caroline heaved herself backwards, lashing out with a vicious kick to its front leg. The joint of it bent the wrong way, with a satisfying crunch, and the dog-wolf thing fell forward with a high pitched whine.

Caroline scrambled back, kicking off her shoes and getting her elbows under her. Biting her lip to stop from screaming again as the pain from the wound went shooting through her arm. The thing wasn't dead, she could still see movement, its three good legs attempting to cooperate to get upright.

Caroline wasn't going to stick around to see if it succeeded. Because it was probably going to be really, really mad.

Getting to her feet she abandoned the path, tearing through the trees, heading in the direction of the nearest populated area. She ignored the branches snagging onto her clothes, cutting into her exposed skin. She fell again, smacking her head against the ground, hard. She shook it off, she forced herself back up, forced herself to keep moving. She ignored the rocks digging into her feet. Caroline hugged her injured arm to her midsection and she just ran. As fast as she could, her breath escaping her in quick, panicked intervals.

Please let there be a car. Please let there be a car. Please let there be a car.

Caroline was almost there, could feel the incline that led up to the road. She stumbled, let out a pained moan as she hit the earth once again, but she crawled, muscles screaming, her good hand pulling her up. She heaved herself up to her feet on the pavement, stumbling forward. There were headlights, close. Too close, Caroline realized as she heard the screech of brakes. She threw her hands up and squeezed her eyes shut and a distant morbid part of her wanted to laugh.

Had she really though she hadn't wanted to die before senior prom? Not even a half an hour ago? She was the biggest idiot. At least her parents would have a body to bury now, even if they had to scrape it off the road.

Caroline braced herself for the impact, sure it would hurt like a bitch, but the pain never came. Her heart was thumping so loudly. One beat. Two. Three. A creak of metal was louder than the fourth, a voice blurting out, "Jesus fucking Christ!" made her crack one eye open.

A green van, beat up but familiar, was inches from her. She wasn't dead. So Caroline laughed. Strained and borderline hysterical. She put a hand on the van's hood, leaned against it as she shook, relief flooding her body.

"Are you high?" another voice asked bluntly, a curly blonde head poking out the window, "probably not smart when your mom's the sheriff."

"Shut up, Liv," Luke Parker hissed exasperatedly.

Straightening, and wiping tears from her eyes, Caroline said, "Oh, Luke. I'd kiss you, if you had any interest in that sort of thing."

Luke shot her a strange look, "Uh, okay. Look, are you alright? You came outta nowhere. I really didn't mean to almost mow you down. If you could not mention this to your mother that would be really great."

"Give me a ride home and I'll never breathe a word to another soul," Caroline promised.

"Deal," Luke agreed. He took a step back and gestured for her to go around to the passenger side. He followed, opening the door and ordering, "Shove over, Olivia."

Liv rolled her eyes, but slid across the bench seat, "You look like shit, by the way," she told Caroline conversationally. "Why aren't you wearing shoes? And why are you bloody? Someone pull a  _Carrie_?"

Ordinarily Liv's snarky remarks would have bugged Caroline, but she was still riding kind of high on surviving a near death experience. Plus, looking down at her filthy legs and torn up clothes, she couldn't exactly argue the points, "Gee, thanks. I kinda feel like shit, actually. Almost got eaten by Cujo so I wouldn't recommend going into the woods unarmed until animal control nabs him. Also, I might bleed on your upholstery."

She expected surprised inquiries but when she glanced up the Parker twins were exchanging an uneasy glance, "What?" Caroline asked, confused. "Did you guys lose a dog? Because I am not going back there. That thing was pure evil and seemed to have a taste for human flesh. Maybe tomorrow. With a bat. Shit, I dropped my purse!"

"Never mind that, what did the dog look like? Liv asked, her tone uncharacteristically gentle, in a way that kind of freaked Caroline out. They weren't friends, her and Liv. They'd grown up together, shoved together at various events as members of the youngest generation of Mystic Falls Founding Families. But they'd not had much interaction in high school. Caroline had taken the cheer squad route and Liv kept to herself, preferring heavy eyeliner and angry music to football games and dances.

"Big?" Caroline said, spreading her hands wide, "Like really big. Black. Furry. Yellow eyes. Lots of teeth."

The twins exchanged another look, almost as if they were mentally arguing. Finally, Luke turned to her, "You're eighteen, right? So your mom told you about The Council."

"The council?" Caroline repeated, "That she's been on for years? Why would I want to know about that? All they do is argue about budgets and town bylaws. Boring."

"Her dad," Liv said, in an undertone. "He's the Forbes."

"Duh. Why are you guys being weird? Did you ask if I was high because you're high? Is that why you don't want me to tell my mom? Are you running an illegal grow op at the greenhouse?" Caroline questioned rapidly.

"No, Caroline," Liv said patiently, "we don't grow marijuana. You really don't know? Why Mystic Falls is… different?"

Caroline snorted, "Different? The only thing that's different is the unprecedented levels of nothing interesting. Now, do you mind if we get going? I think I should pour a bottle of peroxide over this. Should probably look into a rabies shot too."

"Don't!" Liv demanded forcefully, "Don't tell anyone, Caroline."

"Oookay," Caroline drawled, shifting back slightly, "and now you're officially freaking me out."

Liv blew out a breath and said, more softly, "Sorry. But I'm really trying to help you. Look, we'll drive you home. You must be exhausted, and I'm sure you want a shower. But tomorrow, come over. We'll show you some things. And then everything will make sense. I promise. Just don't tell anyone what happened tonight. Not even your mom."

Caroline studied Liv's face, the anxiety that was clear in her eyes and she wavered. Something had honestly rattled the other girl, and Liv Parker wasn't easily shaken up, "Fine. But I have dance clean up so it'll be in the afternoon."

"That works," Luke piped up, "gives us time to get a few things ready."

"Whatever. Kind of makes it sound like you're luring me to your murder lair but Liv's right and I'm too tired to care." Caroline climbed into the van and Luke shut the passenger door before hurrying back around to the driver's side. Caroline rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. The Parker's were silent, the only noise the low hum of a song she didn't recognize.

She felt their eyes on her, every once in a while. They both seemed tense but Caroline hadn't been kidding about her state. It had been a very long night and the pain in her arm was slowly increasing now that she was no longer distracted, the dull throb of it making her grit her teeth.

Caroline wanted a shower and her bed and half a bottle of Tylenol. Whatever Luke and Liv's problem was, she'd deal with it later.

**New Orleans, Louisiana - February 18 (11:35 PM)**

Klaus Mikaelson was a light sleeper. He didn't dream much, had long since stopped having nightmares. Shooting up out of bed, jerking out of a doze, clutching his forearm and gasping for air? That was unusual.

He glanced wildly around the room, noting nothing amiss. But he felt… odd. Like his skin didn't fit.

He could smell pine trees, the scent sharp and real in a way that meant it couldn't be one of those flowery artificial chemicals. It wasn't a cleaning smell, or one of those silly candles Rebekah insisted on burning. It had to be coming from somewhere. But there were no such trees on the grounds of his home in New Orleans. Let alone in his bedroom.

The gnawing pain in his forearm remained, his heart beating irregularly quickly. Was this a spell, of some sort? For what purpose?

Klaus' attention was caught by a stirring in the bed next to him, by the pleased little murmur that the wolf girl occupying it let out. She stretched, her eyes opening to watch him hungrily, a slow smile spreading across her face. Klaus found he couldn't recall her name. Her hand reached out, landing on his thigh. Klaus recoiled, but she didn't seem to notice as her hand crept upwards, over the sheet until she reached the bare skin of his hip.

It felt wrong. It made his flesh crawl.

Instinctively, Klaus flung her touch away roughly. She made a surprised sound but it was quickly muffled by his hand clamping around her throat. He was careful not to let anymore of his skin come into contact with any of hers. Her eyes bulged, nails scratching uselessly at his fingers, but his grip did not loosen, "Do not touch me again," he growled at her, staring into her eyes as her face began to purple.

She strained against his hold and finally, Klaus released her, getting out of the bed and pulling on his discarded jeans. He could hear the girl gasping for air behind him but he did not care, "You have thirty seconds to get out of my house, or I will kill you."

"Klaus, what…" she coughed.

"Twenty-five seconds," Klaus intoned. He preferred not to kill in his room, so many of his favorite things were in it, and blood stained, but he'd do so if necessary.

She huffed and hurriedly gathered her things, bolting out the door. No sooner had it banged shut than Klaus was driven to one knee by a blinding pain in his head. He clutched at his hair, eyes slamming closed. When he opened them again he was staring at a forest floor, at hands scraping in the dirt. He saw trees. Dozens of them, hundreds. And then he was moving past them, but far more slowly than Klaus knew he was capable of. His limbs felt heavy, weak.

What was happening to him?

He felt dirt give way to concrete under his feet, saw a blinding flash of light and then nothing. He was frozen.

When he opened his eyes he was back in his room, the thick rug underneath him having been shredded by his hands. Distantly, he heard a high pitched laugh.

Klaus got to his feet slowly, glanced around again warily, expecting to be sucked back into whatever had just occurred. But nothing happened, after a few moments, and his mind began to whirl, to process. His arm still ached and he glanced down at it, checking. But his skin was unmarked. He closed his eyes, replayed the memory of what he'd seen.

Forest floor. Dirt. Hands pushing against it. Hands.  _Not his hands_.

They'd been smaller than his, the fingers slender and red tipped. A woman's hands.

Klaus swallowed a gasp, unable to allow a display of shock, even in the privacy of his own room. She'd been bitten. Finally. The woman he'd waited centuries for. The woman who would make him the most powerful creature on earth.

He only had to find her.


	2. The Viruses We Transmit Are Deadly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 1492, the ritual to break The Hybrid Curse is not as successful as Klaus had hoped. In the present, Caroline wakes up feeling out of sorts, and has to deal with a whole lot of new and alarming information. In NOLA, Klaus is forced to come clean, and things get complicated with some meddling witches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from _Underworld_.

**Chapter Two – The Viruses We Transmit Are Deadly**

**Kent, England - April 27 (6:06 AM)**

_**1492** _

_Screams ring out, followed by a harried flapping of wings, as a cluster of blackbirds flee._

_Elijah pauses, his head tipping to the side, to concentrate, and pinpoint the location of the noise. It's pained, and edged in terror, and he feels a moment's regret, for the poor soul making it. The sound had shattered the idyllic near silence of the forest, but at least he now has a firm direction._

_Elijah and Kol had split up nearly an hour ago, having lost track of Niklaus. Even as a wolf his brother is unpredictable, it seems, but far less focused, his attention easily snared and redirected. And transformed Niklaus is just the smallest bit faster than either Elijah or Kol, leaving them to make use of the hunting skills their father had once drilled into them. Skills rarely used in the last few centuries, and thus a little rusty. Kol had stayed behind to bury the last pair of bodies that the wolf had ripped apart, found just outside a rough stone cottage, leaving Elijah to follow Niklaus' trail._

_He thought he had been getting close, and the shouts had confirmed his suspicions. Elijah sets off in their direction, his feelings mixed. A small part of him feels pleasure, to have finally caught up with Niklaus, the larger part exasperation that his duty, following an enormous wolf across the countryside, is not yet done. None of the many, many, witches the family had found, and consulted, over the years, had been able to tell them precisely what would happen, when Niklaus managed to break The Hybrid Curse. But, because the sun has risen, Elijah makes the reasonable assumption that Niklaus now has the ability to change at will, and is now once again preying on an unfortunate passerby._

_The screams continue, growing hoarser, and more agonized._

_Leave it to Niklaus to play with his food, even as a werewolf._

_But a bloody murder scene is not what greets Elijah, when he enters the clearing where the racket originated._

_Because Niklaus is not the cause of the noise, but the poor soul making it. Elijah, momentarily stunned at the sight before him, finds himself frozen, a state he will later look back upon in shame._

_His brother lays naked, skin filthy and smoking, as it heals only to be set alight where the sun's rays touch it, again and again. Niklaus has obviously attempted to move into the shade offered by the trees, his hands and feet have carved deep groves in the earth around him, but he has not managed to move more than his body's length._

_Elijah shakes off his stupor, and all the questions forming, sheds his jacket, and throws it over Niklaus' head, gathering him up and speeding him to the cover of the forest canopy, meagre though it may be._

_Niklaus quiets once he's resting against the base of a tree. He lets out only the occasional moan, audible through his clenched teeth, as he curls in on himself and pants for breath, twitching as the burns fade, leaving his skin pink and new looking._

_"The sun will shift," Elijah notes, "we cannot linger here for long."_

_Niklaus' head turns, from where it had been resting on the ground, resignation in his clouded gaze._

_"I left Kol to deal with your mess, just over a league southwest of here. There were a few buildings."_

_Niklaus stands laboriously, flinching away when Elijah reaches to assist, crowding against the thick trunk behind him, "Right," he groans, "let's make this quick then."_

_Elijah nods, gestures for Niklaus to begin running. His brother is prideful, beyond stubborn, and accustomed to dealing with pain, without complaint, and from a young age. And so Niklaus makes it farther than Elijah had expected him to, before he crumples. Elijah doesn't say anything, when he lifts Niklaus from the ground, carrying him like a child, the rest of the way._

_Kol is just scattering debris to disguise the graves he'd dug, when Elijah speeds past him, into the one room home that had belonged to the recently deceased young couple, who had been unfortunate victims of Niklaus' wolf._

_He lays Niklaus on a pallet in the corner, throwing the rough woolen blanket that had been there over him, smothering the last of the flames. Elijah peels back a corner of the covering, refuses to release the gasp that builds when he sees the state of the body underneath it. Kol enters, and before he can begin asking questions, Elijah barks instructions, "He needs blood. The healing is too slow. Find some. Then go back to the ritual site, see if you can locate his daylight ring. If you can, bring it back here, if you cannot, grab one on the spares."_

_"What happened?" Kol whispers, eyes wide at the site of Klaus' trembling, bringing a hand to his nose, to avoid the acrid scent of charred flesh. Becoming vampires had made them strong, something Niklaus in particular had come to relish. He denied all vulnerabilities, hated to show weakness. Aside from the years he'd spent trapped in madness after killing The Brotherhood of the Five, this was the lowest either Kol or Elijah had seen Niklaus since the beatings he'd endured at the hands of their father. Elijah knows that his brother will hate that others, even family, have witnessed his infirmity, once he becomes more aware._

_Elijah wishes that he had an answer for Kol, "Do as I asked, Kol. Quickly."_

_Kol chooses not to argue, or make further comment, a small mercy. He leaves, heading at full vampire speed in the direction of the nearest village._

_Niklaus shifts, cursing in their mother tongue, "Why didn't it work, Elijah? It should have worked," he rasps, brokenly, from beneath the tattered blanket._

_Elijah rests a hand on Niklaus back, careful not to cause further damage, "I don't know, brother. But we will find out," he vows. It's a promise, not something Elijah makes lightly. But this is one he will keep._

**New Orleans, Louisiana – February 18 (11:41 PM)**

Klaus nearly ripped the door off its hinges, when he flung it open, and the knob dented the wall of the hallway when it crashed to a stop. He scarcely noticed, stalking down the corridor to Elijah's room at the far end. He didn't bother to knock, as Elijah kept company exclusively outside of the home the siblings shared. But, throwing open Elijah's door, with the same lack of care, Klaus is left staring at an empty room, the bed perfectly made.

Whirling, Klaus takes a deep breath and roars his brother's name. Then again, louder, when he receives no response. He growls, eyes the closet. Perhaps if he began rending suits...

He hears two doors open, and two people approaching. Neither set of footfalls belongs to the sibling whose counsel Klaus actually desires, at the moment. But, of course, that won't stop Kol or Rebekah from pestering him.

Rebekah has a silk sleep mask pushed up over her forehead, and eyes him balefully as she flounces into the room and sits down on the trunk at the foot of Elijah's bed. Kol's dressed to head out, from the looks of him, expression more amused than anything.

Kol leans against the doorframe, "What's the tantrum for this time, Nik? One of your little wolf pets make a mess of the carpet?"

"That last one was shrill," Rebekah complains. "I heard you kick her out. Could you not have just killed her? There's at least a half dozen more sniffing at your heels."

Klaus ignores them, making for the door, "Run along children, this is grown up business." But, a thought occurs to Klaus, and he turns towards them again, studying Kol in consideration, "Actually, Kol, I'll be needing your assistance."

"Since when is Kol a grown up?" Rebekah exclaims, and for someone who'd just derided another's shrillness she hits an alarming pitch.

"I don't think I want to be a grown up," Kol comments mildly, though there's a spark of interest in his eye. "Sounds dull."

"Well, that's altogether unfortunate. For you. Find me a witch," Klaus instructs. "One you think can be trusted, or one who won't be missed. Your choice."

"What do you need a witch for?"

"A spell," Rebekah breaks in, snidely, her displeasure at being disregarded evident, "Obviously."

"I gathered that, Bekah. Only an imbecile wouldn't have," Kol replies patronizingly, before looking back at Klaus, "What kind of spell?"

"A delicate one," Klaus says, unwilling to elaborate. "And do quit sniping at one another. I've no patience for it. Elijah!"

Both of his siblings jump at his sudden shout, but seconds later Elijah enters the room, glancing at them each in turn, "One would think, after I'd ignored their summons, to ask again, more politely. But not you, Niklaus. And why is it that we've congregated in my bedroom? Do we not have any number of rooms more suitable for a family meeting?"

Klaus ignores Elijah's prattling and gets directly to the point, "Call Katerina. I find I may require her services, should Kol's little witch friends prove incompetent. You know I enjoy a plan B."

"What could you possibly need the bloody doppelgänger for, Nik?" Rebekah asks, repulsed.

"I need to locate someone. Immediately."

Elijah's expression is carefully neutral, a tell in and of itself.

"Oh yes, brother," Klaus drawls, thrilled to be playing this card at long last, "I am well aware that your dalliance with Katerina is, in modern parlance, on again."

"Ugh, Elijah. Why? She's awful," Rebekah gripes, "just once, can one of you carry on with someone not completely horrid?"

"I do wonder how long it will continue, this time," Klaus muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "I believe the record is what, five months?"

It might have been a rhetorical question, but Kol supplies an answer anyway. "Seven, Nik. Don't you remember? In 1871. Didn't make it to Christmas. Such a shame I thought those two crazy kids would finally last, that time.

Klaus grins at Kol, who's shaking his head in mock regret. "Quite. Get a hold of the scheming little menace, tell her that if she wishes for me to continue ignoring her existence, she'll make an appearance in The French Quarter, in no more than twenty-four hours."

Elijah's jaw clenches so hard Klaus is surprised it's not audible, but he nods in acknowledgement of Klaus request.

"Excellent. We'll be out of your hair then. Bekah, Kol?" he waves his siblings towards the door, "Let's leave big brother to make that call. I imagine Katerina's going to require some convincing, and that will likely not be suitable for your delicate ears."

**Mystic Falls, Virginia - February 19 (5:12 AM)**

Caroline wakes slowly, disoriented, trying to grasp the dream that's slipping away. She's overheated, and achy, and there's a pillow clenched between her thighs.

Sleep masturbation. That's new.

She'll just blame it on the fact that Tyler's been so weird and distant lately. Like, she knows his mom is crazy overprotective, but they were eighteen years old. Demanding your eighteen year old kid miss the Valentine's Day Dance, and be home before dark, was pretty messed up, in Caroline's opinion. What was Carol going to do when Tyler went away to college? Get one of those video baby monitors and install it in his dorm?

Because that would make Tyler super popular.

Caroline pushes thoughts of Carol Lockwood away. She contemplates going back to sleep, but doesn't think she'll manage it. Her body is insistent, throbbing nearly painfully for attention. So Caroline flips onto her back, throws the pillow to the side, and draws her knees up. She slides her hand down, and lets it hand wander into her sleep shorts.

She's very wet, tension coiled tightly in her belly, and Caroline knows it won't take much at all to get off. She presses two fingers inside of herself, the heel of her hand making circles against her clit. She throws her free hand over her mouth, to muffle the little whines she's helpless to stop, back arching as her hand speeds up, fingers curling. The hem of her shorts bites into her thighs almost painfully as she spreads them as wide as she can.

She ignores it, her hips rocking into the pumps of her fingers, legs trembling, toes curling hard into the sheets. She's almost there, breath coming in pants against her palm. Just a little more. One last rough grind against her clit and Caroline's coming, eyes fluttering in pleasure as she rides it out, drawing her fingers out of her spasming core to tap against her clit, prolonging the ripples of her climax.

Sated, Caroline lets her legs flop onto the bed, and lifts her arms over her head, reaching up and pointing her toes, letting out a contented sigh at the full body stretch.

Not the worst way to wake up. But damn, she wishes she could remember that dream. It must have been good, to cause that kind of reaction. Hell, sometimes half an hour of heavy petting couldn't get her half that revved up.

Rolling her head to the side, Caroline catches a glimpse of the glaring red numbers of her alarm clock. Ugh. Killer orgasm or not it was way too early to be awake. She rolls away, blindly reaches down for the blanket she'd kicked off at some point. A pang of discomfort draws her eyes to the gauze wrapped around her forearm, the bright white of it visible in the dim light of the moon spilling in from her window.

Oh shit, what if it was infected, and that's why she felt so hot and sweaty? Were fever dreams a real thing that happened? Or was that just an expression? Was she delirious? She feels pretty rational. But crazy people never think they're crazy, do they?

Was it rabies? How would she even know that? She knew she should have Googled the symptoms before going to sleep!

Panic building, Caroline lurches out of bed, stumbles towards her bathroom, slapping the light on. She squints into the sudden brightness, groping at the sink, and knocking over the cup that holds her toothbrush. She washes her hands quickly, her eyes adjusting, and then she unravels the bandage, expecting the wound to be green and pus filled and disgusting.

But it's not. Caroline brings her arm closer to her face, blinking as her surprise mixes with a healthy dollop of relief. The gash actually looks good, the edges smooth and beginning to knit together nicely for a wound that's only a few hours old. The half a tube of Polysporin she'd slathered on had done good work.

Her heartbeat slows, anxiety receding. Caroline shakes her head at herself, and her overreaction. So she woke a little horny, had some apparently dirty dreams. She was a teenager, that was totally normal, right? Going straight to dying of rabies (and there might have been some thoughts about how horrible prom dress shopping with one arm would be…) was a little dramatic, even for her.

Caroline studies herself in the mirror for a moment. Her face is a little flushed, and there's a faint sheen of sweat on her skin. But she doesn't look sickly. God, she probably just needed some sleep. Caroline opens the drawer where she'd shoved the medical supplies earlier, determined to follow her own advice.

She applies another wrapping to her arm, before flicking off the lights and returning to bed. She takes a minute to straighten it out – her restless night had resulted in the sheets coming loose from the bottom corners of the mattress, and her blankets lay twisted at the foot of the bed – before crawling in and plumping the pillows.

Caroline, staring up at the ceiling, is kind of torn on whether she wants to dream again, or not. On the one hand Tyler's recent scarcity has left her with some unmet needs. Clearly her subconscious was on to something. On the other, she doesn't want to fight exhaustion tomorrow. Her alarm's set for 8, she needs to be at the school for clean up by 9:30. And then she needs to get to the bottom of whatever Liv and Luke's deal was.

And also what the deal with The Council was. And the deal with the big, dark, family secret it seems like her dad has neglected to mention. Like she was freaking Nancy Drew, all of a sudden.

Just thinking about it was enough to give a girl a headache.

* * *

Her mom's on the phone when Caroline enters the kitchen the next morning, on silent feet, boots in hand. But what else is new? Caroline's long since stopped keeping track but the vast majority of shared meals with her mother are interrupted. By police business, or town business, or any host of other things more important than she is.

And wow, isn't she bitter this morning? She'd woken up as if her 5 AM solo delight hadn't happened, feeling frustrated. She'd refused to be a slave to her hormones, and had forced herself into a cold shower. Her libido had been mostly quashed, but then her stomach had started growling.

Caroline's not really a breakfast person, so she's a little mystified that her stomach is yelling, 'Feed me' so urgently. But hey, maybe running for your life requires a few extra calories the next day.

Caroline's ears catch her mother's tone of voice first, alarmed but not quite angry, with a tinge of disappointment (all emotions Caroline is very familiar with, coming from Liz Forbes). Then the words trickle in, "…got out? Carol, don't you know how dangerous that is? If The Council…"

Liz trails off when Caroline enters her line of vision, making a beeline to the coffee pot. Caroline curses herself. She should have eavesdropped a little, because she hated that Liv and Luke might be right, about The Council being kind of shady (and that they were way more in the loop than she was!). But, she'd registered the topic, and other participant, of her mom's conversation, too late.

Did the dog-beast-thing have something to do with The Lockwood's? She's pretty sure Tyler would have mentioned getting a pet. She regrets her hasty entrance, but her body's screams of 'Caffeine!' were impossible to resist. Between last night's happenings, and her restless night, Caroline's going to need a lot of the stuff.

From the furtive glances and hushed tone her mom's adopted, Liz thinks what she's talking about is none of Caroline's business. But really, if adults wanted to have super-secret conversations they should learn how to text. And how to lock smartphones. Caroline touches the bandage, safely hidden under the sleeve of her navy cardigan. She'd been pretty sure that Liv and Luke had been acting dramatic, that a gaping wound was something a parent, even one as distant and disapproving as Liz Forbes could be, should get a heads up about. But if her mom was keeping secrets, Caroline thought she was entitled to a few of her own. At least until she had a little more information.

"Good morning, Caroline," her mother greets warmly, after setting the phone, face down, on the table. "Did you have a good time at the dance?"

A somewhat loaded question, but Caroline forces a happy smile, though it feels brittle "Pretty good, yeah. Grams took pictures. I'll put them on the computer later if you want to have a look."

Her mom nods, absently, attention already flicking back to her phone. Caroline supresses a sigh, resists a snotty remark. She's used to her mother's 'the job comes first' way of life. She kind of wishes she could vent, about how disappointed she'd been when Tyler and Bonnie had to leave the dance early, offering only vague apologies. How Elena had bailed shortly after, but at least she'd had the excuse of her appointment at Duke being bright and early today. Elena's 'special blood' was being drawn again, used in yet another medical trial or something (honestly, Caroline had long ago tuned out the details) and Caroline grudgingly supposed that helping people, however tangentially, was a pretty good reason for calling it an early night. But that's not the kind of relationship she has with her mother, so Caroline keeps things light and cheery.

It's harder than usual, her anger closer to the surface.

"What are your plans for today?" Liz asks.

Caroline tries not to roll her eyes at the attempt at mom-ing, "Clean up starts in forty-five minutes. I'm hoping we'll be done by noon. Than I'm going to The Parker's."

Her mother glances up at that, eyes narrowing quizzically, "Oh? I wasn't aware that you were friends with Liv."

Caroline's kind of surprised that her mother would even know that, but she shrugs, lies easily, "I'm not. School project. AP Bio."

Accepting that with a nod, her mother stands, hand going to the gun at her hip absently, "I'll be home late tonight, I have a meeting. I'm going to go to the store this afternoon so there should be something for you to make for dinner."

"I think I'm going to a party tonight," Caroline says, trying to remember her exact plans. She sort remembers agreeing to go with Tyler to something one of his teammates was throwing, not with a great degree of anticipation, but wanting to spend time with him, "I'll leave you a note if I don't see you."

She doesn't think her mom's entirely happy with that. Liz's mouth pinches and Caroline bristles, primed for an argument. She's cut back on the partying this year, and her mom's eased up on her a lot as a result. But Caroline knew that her grades had to be stellar to get her to a college far away from this town, so she'd been willing to put in the work.

Curfews had long since proved to be unenforceable, so Liz had stopped trying. If her mom thinks she can start again today, she's got another thing coming. It's a little late for Liz to attempt in depth parenting. But Liz smiles, small and tight, rather than starting a lecture, "Do that, Caroline. And be safe. Good luck on your project."

"Thanks," Caroline replies automatically, calming slightly. Her mom offers a farewell, and leaves the kitchen, the squeak of her thick soled boots familiar and loud as she walks through the house.

She'd be worried that her mom would want to know the progress of the fictional project she'd just invented, would inquire about a grade eventually. But Caroline knows that Liz will forget all about it before her police cruiser even makes it down the driveway.

It hurts a little, but she's used to it. Actually, today is pisses her off, more than anything. Makes the guilt that comes with lies easier to bear. Because why should she feel guilty, when it seemed like everyone else was lying too?

Pushing the thoughts aside Caroline begins opening cupboards. Maybe breakfast would make things seem better.

**New Orleans, Louisiana – February 19 (10:19 AM)**

Klaus is tense, about to snap at either Rebekah or Elijah, because the way the former is meticulously buttering her toast, and the latter's teaspoon is clinking against the china of his cup, is grating on his frayed nerves.

He'd not bothered attempting to sleep, choosing instead to sketch the images in his head over and over again. Her slender hands, the glimpses of forest. It's familiar, somehow, but Klaus has trekked through more forests in a thousand years than he could possibly remember. A few times he'd felt odd, the barest little wisps of emotion that had no context, flitting through him. They rattled him, and he both hated it and wanted more. Klaus is doing his damnedest to try to appear as if everything is normal. Rebekah's uncharacteristic quietness, the looks Elijah keeps shooting him, overtop of the newspaper, both let him know he's not quite succeeding.

Kol's been gone for ages, has ignored countless texts and calls. Klaus seethes, just thinking about it. If Kol can't handle one, incredibly simple, task he might as well go back in a box. Why, Klaus has half a mind to…

Before Klaus' imagination can produce a fitting, if gruesome, punishment for his younger brother's insolence, Kol strolls into the dining room, looking smugly pleased with himself.

Throwing his body into a chair, Kol tips it back on its legs, props his feet on the table. "Ah, a family meal. How quaint. Do we have pop-tarts? Marvellous invention, those."

"Feet off the table, Kol. And no we don't have pop-tarts. That's not real food."

"Worried about your girlish figure, Elijah? Someone should," Kol gestures at Rebekah's plate pointedly, "are you sure you need all that bacon, sister-dear?"

Kol dodges the fork Rebekah flings his way, leaving it embedded in the wall behind him. Elijah lets out an aggravated sigh, but Klaus interrupts, voice silky and cold, before Elijah can begin bemoaning their lack of civility, "Your task Kol, did you complete it? Do consider your answer carefully."

Kol sobers, if only slightly, "Technically no, Nik…"

Klaus is out of his chair in an instant, but Kol manages to dodge him, circling the table, "But there are extenuating circumstances that you'll really want to listen to!" he exclaims.

"Enumerate them," Klaus spits out, leaning forward to grip the edge of the table, "immediately."

"You might have mentioned that your mate's been bitten," Kol remarks lightly, watching Klaus' reactions carefully, "Would have been helpful."

Klaus stiffens, as the words sink in. Ignores Rebekah's shocked intake of air, and Elijah standing from the table.

"Niklaus, is that true?" Elijah questions urgently.

Klaus hesitates, looking at each of his siblings in turn, before he takes a deep breath and answers, "Yes. It happened last night. And none of you needed to know," Klaus declares, tries to make it sound dismissive, but in truth he'd not been willing to trust anyone, even his family, with the knowledge.

A brand new, bitten wolf, was alarmingly delicate, easy to snuff out. Klaus would not allow that to happen, would not allow her to be taken from him. That Kol knows is alarming, because though his younger brother is more perceptive than he first appears, Klaus has a sinking feeling that there's more to it than that.

"Nik, that's…" Rebekah looks overwhelmed as she falls silent. But then her face smooths, emotions shuttered, and she heaves an aggravated sigh, "With my luck this one will be the worst yet. And I'll be stuck with the tarty little peasant forever."

Kol draws Klaus' attention, before he can reprimand Rebekah, "We don't have time to pet your ego, Bekah. When I was out I ran across two little witchlings locked in urgent whispers. Seems one of them had a vision of Nik's mate, told her coven all about it."

The table cracks under Klaus hand, and he flings the wood away with a growl. "Seems we'll need to eliminate some witches today. Not my least favorite way to spend an afternoon, though it has been awhile."

"You cannot just wipe out an entire coven, Niklaus."

Klaus pivots, fists clenching at Elijah's censure, "Why ever not? It wouldn't be the first time. I'll not tolerate threats from uppity little witches."

"Because you wouldn't just be wiping out one coven. You'd need to wipe out all of them," Kol interrupts, voice firm, and Klaus breaks his stare off with Elijah.

All eyes focus on Kol, who'd sat himself back at the table, once Klaus' ire had been distracted, "That's what I'm trying to tell you. The baby witch in question saw it in a dream, tattled right away. Thanks to the miracles of modern technology all the coven leaders knew by sunrise. The poor little witch was frantic, upon hearing their plans. Felt terrible, knowing she'd condemned an unsuspecting girl to death."

Klaus cursed, began pacing. Wiping out one of the covens in New Orleans could have possibly been smoothed over. Wiping out the lot of them? There would be consequences, enormous ones. His instincts screamed at him to do it anyway, damn the fallout. But such a move would not go unnoticed, and witches talked. If they all disappeared from the city en masse, wouldn't that be suspicious? Perhaps cause his actions to be looked at by more eyes, with greater focus? Klaus has enemies upon enemies out there. If he made the wrong move he could very well be painting a target on his unsuspecting, and unequipped, mate.

"I do have some good news," Kol adds, and the little thread of glee behind the peaks Klaus' interest. He raises an eyebrow, giving Kol his full attention, "We've guests, in the dungeons," Kol announces, inspecting his fingernails. "I figured they'd be pumping the little psychic for more information, once they'd gotten organized. And I took steps to prevent it."

A slow smile crawls across Klaus face, once he processes Kol's words. "Oh brother, I do believe there's hope for you yet."

Kol positively preens at the praise.

**Mystic Falls, Virginia - February 19 (1:16 PM)**

"What would you say if I told you that you weren't bitten by a dog, Caroline?"

Caroline shoots Luke an unimpressed look, slumping against the ratty couch in the greenhouse he'd led her to, "I'd say, how the fuck would you know what bit me, considering you weren't there?"

Luke shifts back, mild shock displayed across his face at her hostile tone. And Caroline should feel bad. But she's so done with the world today. Her irritation had increased throughout the morning, spurred by people's startling lack of ability to do anything right, without her there to hold their hands and offer praise and lollipops. Her replies had gotten more cutting as the morning had worn on, until people were avoiding her gaze and stepping carefully around her. But seriously, post dance clean up wasn't rocket science, was it?

Plus, her stomach had started growling again not much more than an hour after she'd devoured a stack of pancakes and like eight strips of bacon. So annoying.

"What do you know about lycanthropy?" Luke says next, brushing away her rudeness. Totally why Luke was her favorite Parker.

"You know, this would go a lot better if you stop assuming I'm an idiot. You should know that certain stereotypes aren't true. Blonde to blond. Although if you're trying to tell me that werewolves are a thing, you have got to be screwing with me."

"I'm not screwing with you, Caroline. Werewolves are a thing. And that's what bit you last night."

Caroline snorts, "So what, I'm going to start growing hair in strange places and howling at the moon in thirty days?"

"That's pretty much exactly what I'm telling you, Caroline."

It's the look on Luke's face that gives Caroline pause, more than anything. There's sadness there, and a deep, deep pity. She's not sold, but she's sure that, at the very least, Luke believes what he's saying wholeheartedly.

Caroline stands, unable to sit still for a second longer, and begins pacing.

"Caroline…" Luke starts.

But Caroline throws a hand up and shushes him, "Quiet. I'm processing."

Her mom's hushed conversation, the bite healing so quickly. The freaky dreams, and the fact that the dog-beast thing hadn't resembled any friendly, neighborhood, canine Caroline had ever seen. Then there's the feeling, deep in her gut, that something was just not right, that her body wasn't the same as it had been yesterday. God was she nuts? Or was she actually buying Luke's crazy?

She can't help but say as much, "Am I dreaming? Is this some low-budget horror movie? Werewolves. Seriously?"

"Do you feel a little… off?" Luke asks, curiously.

Caroline stops at that, faces him, "Off how?"

Luke coughs, shifts awkwardly, face turning pink, "Angrier than usual? Hungry? Uh… horny?"

Caroline fights to keep her jaw from dropping open, as Luke had pretty much just listed all the things that had been bugging her since she'd first woken up. She darts a glance at him, about to ask further questions, when the door to the greenhouse creaks open, and Liv walks in, arms loaded down with huge, old looking books. She drops them on the coffee table, shakes her arms out, glancing between Luke and Caroline thoughtfully, "You've told her?"

"Sort of," Luke replies, "I…"

Liv rolls her eyes, "I've got to work at 2. I don't have time for your mushy sensitivity, Luke."

"Oh, there's more, is there? More than werewolves?" Caroline utters the last word mockingly, and Liv pins her with sharp eyes.

"There's way more. I'm supposed to give you the bad news."

"Because 'you got bit by a werewolf' was the good news?" Caroline's voice rises with her incredulity.

Liv tips her head in concession, "No, I guess you're right. It's all pretty shitty. But it's about to get shittier."

Caroline sits back down, studies the other girl. Liv's covering her own pity with a thick layer of bitch, and Caroline finds she kind of appreciates it. Crossing her arms, Caroline gestures for Liv to go one, "Alright, go ahead. Bad cop me."

Liv takes a deep breath, "Okay, fine. Werewolves? Real. As are vampires. And witches, but we'll save that conversation for later."

"Can't wait," Caroline mutters, under her breath.

"Mystic Falls is a creepy little hub for various creatures, has been for centuries. Rumor has it that the first vampires were created here, centuries ago. The Council knows about it, all the founding families too. We're supposed to get the 'monsters are real' talk when we turn eighteen. But you didn't, for some reason."

"My dad couldn't make it. A work thing."

Caroline watches Liv and Luke do that twin mind meld non-verbal communication they do. Reins in her urge to tell them to stop it, "Right," Liv says finally, "I'll add The Council to the 'to be discussed later' pile. But they're not a fan of non-humans. Which is why you can't tell anyone you got bit. I don't know what they'll do to you, but trust me when I say it won't involve hugs."

Caroline has a hard time imagining The Council, her mother, Mrs. Lockwood, Pastor Young, and everyone else, hurting her. They'd watched her grow up, maybe clucked a little disapprovingly at her antics, but harm her? But Liv appeared dead serious, managed to make them sound so sinister.

As if reading her doubts, Liv shakes her head, her eyes almost pleading, "You don't have to believe everything I'm saying, Caroline, but believe me when I say this all has to stay a secret. They won't care that you're Miss Mystic Falls, or that you were once an adorable blonde moppet they snuck cookies to. At best, they'll lock you in a cell somewhere. At worst…" Liv grimaces as she stops speaking, the implications ominous.

Caroline finds herself nodding, agreeing to keep silent. For now.

Liv claps her hands together, "Now, Let's talk Supernatural 101. Becoming a werewolf is usually a matter of genetics, and either carelessness or douchebaggery. It's a gene, passed down through families, and you trigger the curse by killing someone, either by accident or on purpose."

Caroline blinks at that, "Huh. Heavy."

"And then there are wolves that are bitten. Info's a little scarce, unfortunately."

"Like me?" Caroline asks, still skeptical.

"Like you. And I hate to break it to you, but from what we've been told bitten wolves are kind of the redheaded stepchildren of the werewolf world. You don't have the same instincts, you don't have packs. The side effects of the transformation are more extreme, the benefits slightly muted," Liv pauses for a long time, before speaking again, more quietly, "and sometimes the change is permanent."

Liv had said that last part in a rush, the words barely separated, so it takes Caroline a second to register their meaning. When she does, she shoots out of her seat and shrieks, "What?!"

Liv exchanges a distressed look with Luke, and he's the one who answers, tone gentle and soothing, "Sometimes, when a bitten wolf turns, they don't turn back. No one knows why, exactly."

"Define 'sometimes,'" Caroline demands.

"A lot," Liv answers, avoiding Caroline's eyes.

"That's vague. And really helpful," Caroline bites out angrily.

"There's not exactly scientific studies and empirical research, Caroline."

The way Liv says it, so reasonably, makes Caroline's temper flare hotter. She sort of longs to cross the room and strangle the other girl, her hands twitching into claws at her sides, but Caroline forces herself not to move, draws a deep breath in through her nose, searching for calm. But it's a tenuous thing, and she knows she needs to get out, get away from the twins, before she does something she can't take back.

"Okay. I'm just gonna go. Think about…" Caroline gestures to the room at large, taking slow steps backward, "all of this… weirdness."

"We're going to do some research," Luke calls after her, "come back whenever."

Caroline doesn't reply, pushing open the door forcefully and darting outside, breaking into a run.

The boots she's wearing aren't designed for sprinting, so she slips and slides, catching herself on trees, once she enters the forest. But she keeps going, until her throat is burning and her legs feel weak.

Caroline collapses against the trunk of a tree, sucking in deep lungful's of air, drawing her knees to her chest. Her mind's racing, the significant moments of the last twelve or so hours replaying in Technicolor detail. She barely feels the cold, skin still running hot, despite the fact that she'd left her coat in the greenhouse. Her purse too, she realizes, and she kind of dreads going back.

Because going back means seeing Liv and Luke again, means facing the things they'd thrown at her. The things they know. It's ridiculous, and she feels like a lunatic for even considering it. But she kind of believes them, about werewolves, about everything, and Caroline has no idea what she's going to do about it.

She's a fixer, but this doesn't seem fixable. And that's terrifying.


End file.
